Attachment
by RochelleRene
Summary: Y'all wanted multi-chapter, so here it is.  I am *so nervous* about it  never want them to be OOC , so let me know if it still rings true.  Huddy discusses House's apartment, since he's practically living with Cuddy.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Wilson knocked on Cuddy's office door and she waved him in from her seat at her desk. "So, I have a proposal for you," he began. He didn't see House, stretched on Cuddy's office couch behind him, playing a handheld video game. House looked at Cuddy and put a finger to his lips.

"All right," Cuddy answered.

"Sam's mother is a big animal rights activist and is hosting a benefit dinner this Friday night," Wilson began. House's face turned to one of repulsion and he began silently waving his arms at Cuddy, mouthing "No. No. No!" Wilson continued, "And Sam actually can get four free tickets and asked if you might want to join us."

"Hmmm…" Cuddy hummed, buying time. "That's really thoughtful of her…"

"I _know_ it means you'd have to spend the time trying to convince House," he said in a commiserating tone, "But that's why I came to you first. I figured you'd have an easier time, you know, convincing him. That is if _you_ even want to go…"

"Hmmm…" Cuddy repeated. House's phone suddenly rang and Wilson whirled around.

"Ah-ha!" House cried, sitting up and pointing a finger at Wilson as he fished for his phone. "Caught! Trying to scam the scammer." He answered his phone. Wilson sighed heavily and turned to look at Cuddy accusingly.

"Sorry, Wilson!" Cuddy defended herself. "He's like a fish tank at this point. I forget he's hanging around back there until turns green and starts to smell funny." House glared at her as he listened to his phone caller. He told his team he was heading up and he hung up.

"I only turn green when you neglect me," he retorted. Then, to address the matter at hand, he said, "And the answer is no, Wilson. We have better things to do than watch a bunch of supposed tree-huggers talk about seal-clubbing while they eat bloody steaks." Cuddy pouted the slightest bit. "What, you wanna go?" House asked, incredulous.

"We haven't gone out like that before," she said, tempted. "We could get dressed up, drink champagne…"

"I'll dress up and buy champagne and we can get wasted at your house!" he offered. Cuddy sighed and frowned a little. Damn her and those lips.

"Come on, House," Wilson chimed in, "Free food, free booze, a large room of strangers to mock and ridicule…"

House looked at Cuddy's hopeful face. "Fine," House relented. "But you owe me, Cuddy. You have to increase my daily porn-watching limit."

"Deal," she agreed. "I'll double it."

"Ooooh," House crooned in mock excitement, "Double the _none_!" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Alright ladies," he continued, "I gotta go teach kindergarteners now how to read an MRI properly. Why do I have a team again?" he complained.

"They do all the things you don't want to do while you play video games on your girlfriend's couch," Wilson explained.

"Oh yeah," House replied. He got up to walk out, whining, "Now I have to go to my place and pick up my alligator boots and my mink-lined suit. Oh! And those cufflinks made out of kitten teeth!" He continued his list as he left Cuddy's office.

Wilson turned back to Cuddy. "You're remarkable," he told her. "That would have taken me at least half a day."

"Try sex, Wilson," she advised. "It's his weakness."

Wilson made a face that was a combination of puzzlement and repulsion. Then he turned towards the door, saying, "So, great! We'll see you on Friday…"

"Did you notice that, Wilson? How House talks about our living arrangement?" she inquired.

Wilson stopped short and did sort-of a double take. He turned back to Cuddy's desk. "Your living arrangement?" He didn't know what she was talking about.

"He's been staying over every night for over nine months now. But he still says 'your house' and 'my place,'" she explained. "He's hardly ever even at his old apartment, except to pick up some random item. Why do you think he doesn't sell it and move his stuff in?"

"Have you _asked_ him to move in with you?" Wilson probed.

Cuddy shook her head. They paused talking for a moment, Wilson waiting for her to go further. "But why do you think he doesn't ask _me_ if he can?" she finally asked.

"Cuddy, this is House we're talking about," Wilson reminded her. "He's like inertia – If he's set to do something, it is impossible to stop him; if he's an object at rest… well, he lays on your couch all morning." Cuddy nodded, seeing his point. "House doesn't think like that. He's not gonna broach the topic until you do," Wilson insisted.

"What do you think he'd say?" Cuddy asked.

"Probably something sarcastic and ambiguous," he replied. "Why are you so nervous about this? You're a confident woman, Cuddy. He loves you. It's not gonna be a huge problem."

Cuddy sighed. "I know. And you're right, it doesn't mean anything that he hasn't brought it up. He's crabbily happy right where he is until one of _us_ pushes him to do something different. It's just… I don't know, I just want him to make the first move on something. I feel like I'm the one who finally said, 'Let's do this,' and then I'm the one who asked him to start staying over all the time. I just want to know that it occurs to him to take this forward, and not that he just agrees to it – like a benefit dinner," she explained.

Wilson felt for her. "Maybe I can give him a little push," he offered, always the meddler. "We could just see how he responds."

Cuddy looked equivocal. "Yeah, I don't know how that will go over. And I feel weird not being more mature about it," she hesitated.

"Cuddy, he plays video games at work. I hardly think you've regressed to his level," Wilson comforted. Cuddy looked even more uncomfortable and looked away. "What? Now he has _you_ playing video games at work?"

"Just when he beats my high score!" she explained defensively. "He gloats for hours! I just need to take back my place of honor to shut him up!"

"I can see why you're worried, Cuddy," Wilson sighed. "You two are completely incompatible."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

House was in his office, reading at his desk, when Wilson walked in. "Uh-oh," House murmured, barely looking up.

"What?" Wilson asked defensively.

"You've got that face," House explained.

"What face?" Wilson asked, again defensively.

"That area on the front of your head," House explained, "With the mouth and the eyes… and the nose that is about to be stuck in my business."

"It's nothing," Wilson replied, disappointed he was such an easy read for House. "I just wanted to ask you about something… about your living arrangement."

House removed his glasses, leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk, looking at Wilson. "My living arrangement?" he repeated.

"Yeah. You remember Bonnie, my ex who sells real estate?" Wilson continued.

"Yeah…" House replied, narrowing his eyes in suspicious confusion.

"Well, she's got this couple looking for an apartment in your neighborhood. She remembered where you lived and called me to see if you still lived there and were interested in selling," Wilson quickly explained. With House, speed was key if you had any hope of not getting caught in the lie.

"I'm not," House replied, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Wilson answered, sounding a little disheartened. "I just thought, you know, since you and Cuddy are, you know, together so much, maybe you didn't want two places anymore."

House scrutinized Wilson. "_I_ don't have two places," House explained. "I have my place, and I spend a lot of time at Cuddy's place." He was trying to read Wilson, to figure out where this was coming from. The thought occurred to him that this might be originating from Cuddy, so he wanted to gather as much information as he could before scaring Wilson silent.

"Yeah, but, don't you think eventually…" Wilson gestured with his hand for House to finish his sentence."

"Eventually…" House mimicked.

"Eventually, you two will just have one place?" Wilson asked.

House paused, studying him. "Eventually, yeah." Wilson nodded, pleased. "But we don't now," House reminded.

"Okay!" Wilson said cheerfully, wanting to quit while he was ahead, "I'll tell Bonnie…" Wilson turned on his heel to walk out of House's office.

"So did Cuddy tell you she _wants_ me to move in to her place and you're meddling, or did she tell you she _didn't_ want me to move into her place and you're meddling?" House asked.

Wilson turned around. "Neither, House." Wilson replied. "I just thought maybe it was time for you guys to grapple with that idea… because Bonnie called." He added quickly.

"I see," House replied. "So just general meddling." Wilson sighed. "You know, maybe you're right… Why don't you give me Bonnie's number and I'll give her a call."

"Oh, I'll just call her for you," Wilson offered, "I owe her a phone call anyway. I'll give her your number, she'll call you…" he started talking fast again.

"Wilson, you are the most terrible liar," House told him.

There was a pause. "I know," Wilson replied, deflated.

"I mean, it's embarrassing," House continued. "Have you learned nothing from our 20 year friendship?"

"The problem, House," Wilson explained, "Is that I generally try to do the opposite of what you do."

"That _is _your whole problem, Wilson." Wilson sighed and turned to the door. House watched him leave, then turned back to his reading.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

House and Cuddy were cooking dinner in her kitchen. Well, House was cooking and Cuddy was randomly stirring things. Rachel was running back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen. She would run to House's feet, he'd freeze and look down at her, then she'd scream and laugh and run out, only to repeat the process indefinitely.

"So," House asked casually while chopping garlic. "I was thinking about how shitty all your kitchen stuff is."

"Thanks!" Cuddy smiled, sitting on the counter, whisking eggs and parmasean in a big bowl.

"And I was thinking…" House said, drawing out the word. He looked down at Rachel. She screamed, laughed, and ran away. "I was thinking, that maybe I'd move some of _my_ kitchen stuff over here, so I could make you a meal without this happening." House held up a spatula that was half melted and bent at a 45 degree angle.

"Oh!" Cuddy replied, a tinge of surprise in her voice.

"That okay?" House probed, eyebrows raised as he stirred a pan of sautéing onions and bacon, adding the garlic.

"Yeah!" Cuddy replied. "Of course…"

House glanced up at her. "Cool," he said, tentatively. He looked downward – scream, laugh, run.

"I gotta go over to my place tomorrow anyway. Gotta pick up a suit for this stupid dinner. I'll just take a few boxes," he said.

"Okay," Cuddy replied, barely stirring anymore.

House looked at her, trying to read her. Wilson had him on high alert, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for yet. "What are you thinking?" he finally asked her.

She looked at him with a bullshit _What do you mean?_ face. "I'm thinking dinner smells great," she answered. She looked at him. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Me?" he replied. - Look down, scream, laugh, run. - He looked back at Cuddy sitting on the counter. "I was thinking that your legs are smokin'."

She smiled. House held up a colander that was missing a handle. "See? How the hell did you lose the handle?" She laughed and shrugged as he poured spaghetti through it, steam rising from the sink. Then he came and took the bowl she was holding and looked into it. "I've never seen stirring like this," he told her with mock seriousness. "Honestly. Excellent work." She smirked at him as he poured the pasta and onions and bacon into the bowl and tossed it all.

"Get the girl. It's ready."

"Rachel!" Cuddy called. "You hungry? You want some noodles?" she asked her in a baby voice.

"I make carbonara, it's noodles. I make alfredo, it's noodles. I make lasagna, it's noodles. I'm starting to get a complex, Cuddy," House called from the kitchen as Cuddy buckled Rachel in her high chair in the dining room.

"You want some carbonara?" Cuddy asked in a baby voice.

"Much better," House said, carrying the bowl into the dining room. As soon as he entered Rachel screamed, then laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

"I need to put my junk in your trunk," House proclaimed, bursting into Cuddy's office the next day. She looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "I also need to borrow your car. I can't carry that kitchen stuff on my bike, so I thought you could take me by my place after work. I'll pick up my suit and some stuff, and we can go back to your house. I'll take Rachel to your mom's so you can get ready."

"Okay," Cuddy replied. A long pause hung in the air.

"Or… I could just ride over there, get my suit, and bring stuff another time," he offered.

"Okay," Cuddy answered. Pause.

House stared at her. "You gonna tell me what the hell is the matter with you, or should I run a differential?"

"What?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"Come on, Cuddy. I suggest moving a little more of my stuff to your house and you get catatonic on me," he said. "Is it making you uncomfortable?"

"No!" she said.

"Is it too soon?"

"No!" she repeated.

"Then what?" he pressed.

There was a long pause. "I was just wondering… why don't you bring… _all_ your stuff to my house?"

House looked at her and blinked. "I'd definitely need your car if I did that," he answered. She laughed nervously. "I dunno," he said. "Let's just start with this, okay? I'll think about it."

She looked deflated, but said, "Okay." He leaned across the desk, kissed her forehead and turned to leave. He had almost reached the door when she said, "What the hell is the matter with _you_?" He froze, turned around.

"Wow. How much time you got?" he asked. "I'd have thought you'd have a list by now…"

"House," she chided him for deflecting. He exhaled a long sigh. "You're not ready?"

He looked in her eyes. "No."

She nodded, clenched her jaw. "Will you ever be ready?"

"Probably," he said flatly.

He saw her eyes well up. "Dammit, House, what _is_ this?" she yelled. "You sleep with me every night; you shower there, you cook for us, you do your laundry; you have half your stuff over there already!"

"Right!" He yelled back. "Why isn't that enough for you?"

She paused. A tear rolled down her cheek and she angrily swept it away. "Because when I know you can just turn and walk out the door and return to your old life without batting an eye, that scares me!" she cried finally.

Now House looked stricken, like she'd slapped him. "That's what you're waiting for, what you're hanging on this?" he yelled at her. "You think if I was gonna walk out on you and Rachel that a couple of fuckin' towels and books are gonna stop me?" She stared at him, crying freely now. "How can you still think I'd do that, Cuddy?" he asked, less mad now, more wounded. "How can you still think I could do that to you?"

She sighed and a small sob came out. "I don't really," she admitted after thinking about it. "I just want to be sure I'm not pulling you along for the ride. I just… want to know what you want," she said quietly.

"I want you," he said. "I want what _you_ want. Even when I don't, I eventually do." She nodded, but House could tell she still felt uneasy.

"Cuddy…" House sighed, weighing whether or not to really get into this. He decided to just jump in. "I like going to my place occasionally. You know what I do there? I walk around and remember living without you. I remember being drunk and lonely and hiding Vicodin in doorjambs. I remember withdrawal and overdoses and hallucinating that you wanted me." Cuddy looked at him, surprise on her face. Her eyes welled up with fresh tears, sprung for different reasons now. "I remember waking up alone in my bed after dreaming about you," he stepped closer to her, his voice softer now, and smiled a little, "and playing video games with only one controller." She smiled back and sighed, this heavy weight lifting off of her. "You think I keep it just in case I want to go back to my old life? I go there, and I sit and think about how I now have everything I was wishing for… screwing up… and hoping would come again when I was living there." Cuddy was totally crying now. "I stand in my bathroom and remember that you saved my life." She nodded, speechless, tears pouring. "And if I _ever_ walked out your door and back into mine, it would only be because you asked me to… and that's the only place I know how to pretend to live without you." She shook her head, saying a silent _no_ to even the hypothetical prospect.

He reached his arms around her and pulled her to him. "I'm only attached to it because it reminds me how awesome it is that I'm now attached to you," he said into her hair. Cuddy let out one last big sob and hugged him. He rubbed her back, and kissed her hair. He held her while she cried out all the stupid irrational worries she had been carrying around. She looked up at him and he held her face and bent to kiss her, a long sweet kiss that calmed her down.

He broke the kiss and stared into her wet blue eyes. "And the hookers," he added, with a fake sad face. "I remember the hookers." She punched him in the ribs and pressed her face into his chest, smiling widely.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

God, he'd been right about this stupid dinner. Cuddy wished they _had_ just gotten dressed up and drunk at home. Everyone was very boring and overly polite. She suddenly worried she was spending too much time with House – She found politeness almost offensive now.

Cuddy stifled a yawn. "Told you," House leaned over and said in her ear. "That dress could be bunched in a ball right now and we'd be starting round two." Actually, though, he was happy for the excuse to see her all dressed up, not in a "dean of medicine" kind of way, but in a "sex on legs" kind of way. Cuddy's dress was red and snug and slit in all the right spots… House figured three hours of inane chit-chat was worth what he'd get at the end of the evening, particularly because he'd never see any of these people again and could spend the evening compulsively lying. Already he'd been an astronaut, a retired circus clown, and the male escort Cuddy hired because she is a lesbian that is hiding it from her friends.

At dinner, Cuddy felt House's left hand land on her right leg, inching up the slit in her dress. She scooted closer to the table and shot him the _Stop it!... but don't stop._ look he'd come to recognize. Sam was talking about something that turned into something else, then something else. Man, that woman could run her mouth! Wilson, for his part, seemed to hang on every word, but Cuddy - whether due to the several drinks she'd had or her below-the-table battle with House's hand, which was trying to pull her legs open - was starting to show her distraction. She didn't even know what Sam was talking about when she burst out laughing, forcing Cuddy to fake a big laugh too. She saw House smirking at her out of the corner of her eye, reading her like a book. He'd won the battle, but not the war - His hand had made it up to Cuddy's heat and he was trying to work his way under her already wet panties, but Cuddy crossed her legs suddenly, preventing his maneuvering closer to her entrance. _No big deal_, he thought, knowing that the tension from her crossed legs only held his hand tighter to her. He had gained enough ground to cause her to exhale softly when he curved his fingers up against her. Her legs tensed involuntarily in response to the twinge he had sent into her core and he immediately pressed at her again, leveraging that further tension. He watched her, fascinated by her ability to fool everyone into thinking she was listening to them.

When dessert was served, he asked the waiter to get her another drink. "No!" she interrupted, a little louder than she'd intended. House suppressed a laugh. "Ya know," she said, faking a disappointed face, "I have to get up really early tomorrow," she began their exit strategy, "and I think…" - House pushed up against her sex with his hand - "I think we'd better just go," she stated, her throaty voice trembling. House nodded sympathetically at her.

"What do you have to do in the morning?" Sam asked.

At the same time that Cuddy said "yoga" House said "waxing appointment." She shot him a dirty look. Sam, assuming correctly that House was just being obnoxious, believed Cuddy. "Oooh, you do yoga? Where do you go?"

"You know," Cuddy began, "It's a new place. I forget the name. I'll get you the address though." _Such a little liar!_ House thought, pressing his hand up against her again, then again, then again. Cuddy looked at the dessert that had been set in front of her. "In fact," she continued – House's hand moved against her – "I'm looking at this cake and I'm just like, 'Why eat this when it'll just undo my whole workout tomorrow?'" – House had managed to gain some more movement and a finger slid up the length of her slit – "So, yeah. I think we're just gonna go," she babbled. Wilson looked confused. – Deep press, long stroke. – "Now," she stated, looking at House.

"Are you really sure, sweetie pie?" he asked, in a saccharine tone, "I know how you _love_ chocolate cake…" he teased. He turned to Wilson and Sam, "There's only one thing she loves more than chocolate cake, if you catch my drift," he said in a mock gossiping tone.

"House!" Cuddy hissed. "Let's go."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Let's go."

As they walked to the car, Cuddy paced ahead of him in her clicking stilettos. He limped along behind her, laughing to himself, but unsure of precisely how much trouble he might be in until he saw her open the backseat door of the car and get in, leaving it open for him. He bit his lip and limped faster.

"You're a fucking ass," she stated as he slid in and closed the door, but she immediately lifted her dress up and straddled him. He laughed at her as he ran his hands over her hips, up her dress to her waist.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into her ear.

"I bet," she replied, her voice shaking with lust. She grabbed one of his hands and pushed it between her legs.

House exhaled. "You're right," he said into her neck, licking down her collarbone. "I'm not the least bit sorry." God, she smelled good. He had no trouble now finding his way under her panties. He ran his fingers along her wet slit and she moaned. Her hands pulled at the hair on the back of his head for a moment, then slid around his face and down to his tie. She untied it and slid it from around his neck. She unbuttoned his collar and kissed his Adam's apple.

House moved his other hand to her back and slid down the zipper of her dress. He ran his fingers up and down her exposed back, causing her to arch into his hand, which presented her breasts right to his face. His other hand was occupied with her wetness, exploring every smooth inch of her sex, so he nudged at her chest with his nose, bit the top of her dress between his teeth, ran his stubbled chin down her skin, trying to get that goddamn fabric off of her body. Cuddy reached for the thin straps at the top of her dress and slid them down her arms, allowing the front of her dress to fall, revealing her perfectly shaped, braless breasts to House. House felt his erection trying to bore a hole in his pants and he shifted, trying to adjust it.

"Allow me," Cuddy said, reaching for his fly. She opened it and pulled him free, her touch causing him to moan a little. They were both breathing so heavily that the rear windows were already fogged and the windshield was beginning to get framed similarly. Cuddy felt his fingers slide into her and she let out this long frustrated breath that turned into a moan, making House crazy. She was running her hands along his shaft, running her thumb over the tip of him, squeezing a hand around him and sliding downward. House's tongue was running over her nipple, lightly flicking and biting. He had both hands on her now, one probing her inside with his fingers, the other rubbing back and forth over her clit. They were like teenagers groping each other with a manic intensity that couldn't be explained. He felt Cuddy's knees tighten against his hips as her pushed on her. Her hands around him began to slow, to grow distracted. She leaned back against the front seat, bucking her pelvis, pushing against his hands. House was so fucking hot for her he felt like he was hyperventilating. When she came she called his name and he continued rolling his fingers over her clit, sliding his other fingers in and out of her opening. He ached desperately to take her hands, get them moving on him again, but he wanted to let her finish, to watch her, back arched in her bliss, as long as it could last.

Cuddy sat up and lay against him again when it was over, regrouping herself. He felt her hot puffs of breath on his neck and he was still so in need of her, he started shifting against her, searching for her entrance. Suddenly, though, Cuddy pulled her shoes off and tossed them on the seat. She slid her small frame off of him to the floor of the car, kneeling between his legs. She motioned for him to lift his pelvis and she slid his pants and boxers down. When he felt her lips wrap around him, all he could do was lay his head back against the seat and groan. He felt her tongue move along his shaft and he didn't know where he was anymore. He moved a hand to her hair, not pushing or directing, just wanting to hold what he could reach of her. He lifted his head and then banged it on the back of the seat a few times. "Jesus, Cuddy," he mumbled, feeling drunk or high or both. Her tongue continued to tease him, her lips moving up and down the length of him. He was trying to hold back, to enjoy this as long as he could, but Cuddy made the slightest moan, more of a sigh really, and he was done for. His head fell back, his mouth gasped air, his hands gently held each side of her face. When he was done, he just lay there panting, and he felt himself slide out of her hot mouth. She kissed him one last time, then kissed his stomach through his dress shirt, his chest and neck and she worked her way back up to his lap and lay her head on his shoulder. It took a Herculean effort to lift one of his tingling arms and lay it around her, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

"What the fuck, Cuddy?" he whispered still gasping for air. "I thought you were pissed at me."

She smiled. "I was," she teased. "That was our make-up sex."

"Jesus," he replied, still entranced with the feelings in his body. "Remind me to piss you off more often."

They sat back there for a while, just groping and catching their breaths and losing their breaths again. The steam on the windows was rolling down in little rivulets now. "Cuddy," House said when they'd started rubbing against each other again, fighting his hands' instincts to spread her legs. "We gotta go home. We can't just fuck in a car all night." Cuddy asked House if they could go stay at his apartment for the night, since Rachel was at her mom's.

"For old times' sake," she explained. He knit his brows in thought for a moment, then agreed. They realigned their clothing and opened the back doors to get out and move to the front. They had to walk along the back to switch sides too, because House insisted on driving because Cuddy was still tipsy. By now, the benefit was over and people were walking to their cars. Cuddy started laughing at how they must have looked, switching places in the car, then rolling down the windows to try to get the foggy moisture off. House was wiping the windshield with his balled up suit jacket as he waited for the defogger to make the car drivable. She sat there laughing so hard and House just watched her, admiring her gorgeous smile, until he couldn't help laughing at her laughing.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

They drove to House's apartment, parked, and entered the building. She approached the familiar door and reached for his key on top of the door frame. "You know all my secrets," he teased. They entered and she just looked around for a moment. Memories from not that long ago flooded her mind, but they seemed ages old. "You want another drink?" he asked. She nodded and he went into the kitchen and made them each one. He handed hers to her, raised his glass and said, "To car sex." She smiled at him and clinked his glass. She admired his handsomeness, his head tilted down to his glass, blue eyes looking up from an angle to meet hers. She sipped her drink and started to look around more. House wanted her to take her time, so he grabbed an empty box near the door and started putting some records in it, watching her take the place in.

It _was_ a little weird. She wandered around this familiar place, remembering small details about it like it had been from her childhood or something. A loose doorknob, a creaky floorboard. She saw the thinnest layer of dust on his piano keys and she really understood what he was saying in her office. He didn't come here to get space or hang out. He didn't _live_ here anymore. He came here to reflect and remember when he picked up something that would eventually find a spot at the house.

She found herself in the bathroom doorway and she didn't know if it was because she was a little drunk or emotionally raw from their sex, but it sucked the breath out of her unexpectedly. She remembered standing there, several hours after she realized she might have lost him forever, hoping with all her heart that it wasn't too late. She remembered the strange calm she had felt. She wasn't nervous about telling him she loved him or even scared about what would happen if he'd already taken Vicodin. It's like in the clarity of that horrible, wonderful night she just saw what she had to do and there was nothing more to think about, for once. She remembered the shattered glass glinting in the tub, his resolute attitude about her showing up. What she remembered most was that look of surprise, of complete shock, when she told him what she had come to tell him. That's when she knew he had almost hit rock bottom – For the first time ever, he was sitting there considering his life and didn't secretly think they'd somehow end up together. And in the next moment they did.

House entered the bathroom. He looked dashing with his collar opened and his tie and jacket removed, his drink dangling from one hand. "Seeing ghosts?" he asked her quietly.

She smiled a little. "Yeah." She saw her toothbrush, still in a cup on his sink. He stepped closer to her and she found her back against the wall. They were standing in the same place where it had started. Well, not started, exactly, but started getting a lot better. He raised his hand and traced her lips with his finger. "I still wonder if you're real," he whispered. She closed her eyes and released the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. He leaned in and kissed her then and she felt light-headed for all the emotion and memories and desire in her body – It was all too much.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Would you do it again?" he asked in his low, gravely voice.

She swallowed hard. "In a heartbeat," she whispered.

He slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her against him. She smelled like Cuddy and gin and he couldn't get enough of it. He kissed her upper lip, then her lower lip. He reached his hand down to her leg that peeked through the slit of her dress. She bent her knee up the side of his body and he reached back to her ass. She raised her glass in the air and said, "To old apartment sex."

He grinned, raised his glass and said, "For old times' sake." He took a sip and then bent to set his drink on the toilet. He unzipped her dress, still holding onto her ass. Then he used both hands to work the long skirt of her dress up her legs. When it was around her waist, he put his hands behind her thighs and hoisted her up, carrying her through the door and laying her on the bed. Cuddy handed him her drink and sank into the cool sheets. She didn't remember the last time he'd made love to her here – They hadn't planned on it being "the last time." It just gradually happened that she never came here anymore. He stayed the night at her house, then two or three, and soon it wasn't even something they talked about. She thought about their earlier fight in her office and wondered why she needed him to proclaim everything, when his actions often spoke volumes.

Like right now, for instance. He didn't have to _say_ he wanted her. His hands sliding the front of her dress down her body and pulling it down her legs showed it. He didn't need to _say_ she was beautiful. The way he just knelt next to her on the bed and ran his eyes from her face to her toes showed it. He didn't need to _say_ he was currently focused on blowing her mind, the way he lifted her leg to lie in between, his mouth kissing its way up her thigh showed it. She had read too much into the "your place, my place" thing. His place was right here, his body between her legs, whether they were at a fancy dinner, in the back of a car, in his old apartment, or at her house.

"You're thinking," he said, interrupting her reflection. "It's very distracting." He smiled up at her from her stomach.

"Sorry," she said. "I'll get dumber."

"You okay?" He wanted to check. "You still want to be here?"

"Yeah," she assured him. "It doesn't matter where we are," she said.

"Clearly not to you, backseat bimbo," he snarked.

"You're talking," she said. "It's very distracting."

His hands started working her panties down her thighs and she felt herself getting hot again immediately. He lay on top of her and was kissing her, feeling her breasts with his one hand, her wet hot sex with the other. He was the one getting sucked into a reverie now, smelling and feeling her on his bed again. Here was where he had first touched her, tasted her, learned how her body worked. Now, he knew it all – how her lips tasted, how the skin that covered her tailbone felt, how her hips moved in his hands when she was coming.

House maneuvered his way downward, licking the salt from her skin. He knew this was probably the last time they'd be here and he wanted to commemorate it, to cleanse away all the hard nights and addiction and even their passionate but tentative beginning with some expression of their current perfection. His hands pushed her legs apart. He put his mouth to her and she moaned and rose up to meet him. He opened her with his tongue, teased at her clit with his lips. He slid his hands down the soft length of her thighs, over her knees, to her shins, which he guided to wrap around his back.

She felt the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue. He knew her so well – how fast to move, when to increase or decrease his direct focus on her clit. She just lay there while he pleasured her, responding to every rise and turn she made with her pelvis. She felt the tension growing in her core and so did he. He moved a hand up to help his mouth, to angle her slightly and give him more precision. "House," she whispered. His other hand reached up and found hers and she gripped it tightly. She was whimpering now, as she approached her orgasm, and he covered her slit with long slow tongue kisses while his thumb stroked her clit. She came like an explosion. It wasn't her usual gradual ride up and down. She suddenly just felt every nerve in her body and the pleasure center in her brain light up. She sat up with surprise and was holding his head to her with her free hand, begging him to never stop.

He kissed and sucked, and licked her until she returned to earth. He was so turned on by the suddenness and strength of her orgasm, he wanted to just push inside her immediately, but he waited, wanting to give her time to recover, so he could make her come again. He laid his head on her stomach when she grew too sensitive to touch. One of her hands still held his and the other scratched the short hairs at the back of his neck. "You still with me up there, Cuddy?"

"Hmm," she murmured. He smiled, listening to her racing pulse gradually slow. "House," she said after a few more minutes, her voice low and seductive, "I want you inside of me." God, he thought she'd never ask.

"Didn't I tell you," he reminded, as he eagerly climbed up her perfect body, laying kisses on her stomach, her breasts, her neck, "That I want what you want?" She smiled widely at him and he studied her beautiful face, relaxed and glowing from her orgasm. He gave her the lightest kiss on her lips, then his eyes squeezed shut with pleasure as he slowly entered her. She took in air with a long shaking gasp, and he exhaled with a quiet groan. He couldn't resist and was moving right away, but slowly and carefully to give her a moment to adjust. He enjoyed himself, pulling almost completely out of her, then sliding back in, his body and brain just burning for her.

Cuddy felt him entering her, but she wanted to feel it even more. She was dying for more. She bent her knees back toward her head and he read her cue, moving each leg onto his shoulder as he began thrusting deeper, faster, and harder. He turned his head and kissed her leg that lay along his neck. "God, Cuddy, even your knees are sexy." She was so breathless and hungry for him she couldn't even attempt a witty reply.

His hands gripped her hips, one thumb putting pressure on her clit. She started saying his name with increasing urgency. It started to sound so much like a question - "House?" - that he said, "I'm here, Cuddy." For some reason that triggered it and she was on fire again, back arching up off the bed, the walls of her sex clamping down around him, her breathing coming in little fits and spurts. Her pleasure made him so happy and so turned on that he approached the edge too. He started thrusting into her faster and harder than he felt like he ever had and just as she was almost starting her descent, he was coming over her. She watched him. His eyes squeezed shut, he sucked in his lips, and his head leaned back. It just kept her there on that peak all the longer, so they came down together, the motion of their hips gradually slowing, their breaths gradually returning, rhythmic again, though heavy. He lay on her, wrapping his arms under her and pulling her even closer to him. He rolled over, keeping her tight against him, so they could lay and he wouldn't crush her. He slid his hands slowly up and down her body, feeling her skin.

After a few minutes, his gravely voice broke the silence. "I can sell it, Cuddy. I don't need it," House offered. "But then you're really stuck with me," he warned.

"I've been stuck with you since med school," Cuddy replied. House smiled and kissed her head.

"Hmmm…" He thought aloud, "If I move everything, where do you think I should set up my Playboy Bunny bobblehead collection?"

Cuddy furrowed her brow, "Where is it now?" she asked.

"In my imagination," he replied.

Cuddy smiled. "I think that's the perfect place."

They lay there a while, just zoning out. "You tired?" House asked her.

"Nope," Cuddy said.

"Me neither," he replied. "All my fun stuff is at your house now, though." Cuddy reached over and put her hand on his crotch. "I guess not _all_ of my fun stuff." Cuddy laughed. "Wanna have sex all night?" House asked.

"Okay," Cuddy replied.

"Want me to call a hooker?" he asked. She sat up a little and gave him an evil look. He spread his arms in innocence. "For old times' sake!" She sighed and laid her head back down on him. He put his hand in her hair. "Where's your sense of nostalgia, Cuddy?"


End file.
